


let this pass you by

by CallicoKitten



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Series, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Trauma, inaccurate medical treatment, irresponsible parenting everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: Steve’s not entirely sure at which point in his life he became Dustin Henderson’s personal chauffeur. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe he can pinpoint the exact moment it happened and it honestly keeps him awake at night more than the demo-dogs or the Demogorgon or any of the insane shit that’s happened in Hawkins recently.---the kids drag steve on a trip to chicago to find El's sister, steve figures some shit out in the process





	let this pass you by

**Author's Note:**

> when i started writing this i wasn't sure what route i'd be going down - either steve/nancy/jonathan or steve/billy but i can't write billy hargrove as anything other than a piece of trash apparently and i wanted steve to heal rather than get more torn up
> 
> title is from i just sighed just so you know by los campesinos
> 
> there's a 99% chance i've spelt jonathan wrong several different ways throughout this fic bc for whatever reason that is a name i have never grasped properly

Steve’s not entirely sure at which point in his life he became Dustin Henderson’s personal chauffeur. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe he can pinpoint the _exact_ moment it happened and it honestly keeps him awake at night more than the demo-dogs or the Demogorgon or any of the insane shit that’s happened in Hawkins recently.

It does of course mean that by extension, Steve’s the designated driver for all Dustin’s friends and that, when his mother shakes him awake early one weekend before winter break and says, _your little friend’s downstairs,_ Steve’s not particularly surprised.

His mom’s smile is huge. She finds the whole thing adorable, always wanted a little brother or sister for Steve. It’s not as bad as Ms Henderson though, she mostly just cries and hugs him. Says it’s really incredible Steve’s taking her Dusty under his wing, that she’s always wanted him to have a decent male role model. Steve’s pretty sure Dustin would have turned out fine but it’s nice to know he’s helping out in some small way.

He has to bare that in mind at times like these.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Steve mutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Okay, sweetie,” his mom says. “I’m making pancakes!”

When she’s gone Steve stares blankly up at the ceiling for a few more minutes before he rolls out of bed and stretches.

Downstairs he finds Dustin perched on a breakfast stool, telling Steve’s mom all about the merits of using fresh blueberries for pancakes over frozen. When Steve emerges Dustin turns to him with an ear-splitting grin.

“Steve! Just the man I wanted to see!” He says, sliding off the stool and making his way over to Steve. “Tell me, have you got any big winter plans?”

Steve’s heart sinks.

\---

The thing is, Steve’s not doing so well.

Last time he was alright and he thinks maybe this is the shock wearing off. This is the slow, cold realisation that everything Steve’s ever been taught about the world, about monsters under beds and good and evil is wrong. Is _bullshit._ This is confirmation last year really happened, that it wasn’t some sort of shared fever dream.

If pressed though, it’s not hard to see what’s different this time around.

He still only really sees his mom on weekends, only really sees his dad when he’s telling Steve what a waste of space he’s been so far. Tommy and Carol dropped him around the time he went soft on the Byers kid and starting dating Nancy Wheeler and yeah, Steve’s got friends outside of them, got teammates and class mates and girls who flutter their eyelashes at him but they’re just – they’re just _bullshit_.

Last time he had Nancy to be strong for. He had Nancy to hold himself together. Nancy who just lost her best friend and had to deal with that, had to deal with the fact that no one outside of a small handful of people knew she was dead and not just missing. Last time he had Nancy to drive across town to, to crawl into bed with at 2am and shake through nightmares.

And afterwards he had Nancy to laugh with, to watch movies with, to plan a future for. (His college application forms lie unsent and unfinished in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He tried with them - _God_ did he try. But he just couldn’t see the point. He wasn’t smart or talented or driven. No one but Nancy thought he’d get in anyway.)

Now it’s just him. It’s just Steve and his weird nightmares about a bunch of kids getting him killed in a car wreck or running through tunnels from monsters, just spiralling out and out and out. He keeps thinking he’ll hit bottom soon, that the threads he’s suspended from will snap and he’ll just scream. Just scream and scream and scream.

Or maybe he’ll just run. Just leave Hawkins. Get the hell out of here and never think about the lab or Nancy or Barb or monster-dogs ever again.

\---

So it turns out that Eleven – or Jane, or whatever – has a sister in Chicago. Or _had_ at least. She met her at some point between hiding out in Chief Hopper’s cabin and closing the gate to the Upside Down. Honestly, Steve’s stopped trying to keep track of the weirdness that emanates from Hawkins Lab. He figures at this point it’s easier just to roll with it and hope nothing tries to kill him before he graduates.

“El thinks she’s in trouble,” Mike says, very seriously. “She hasn’t been able to see her clearly for a few days.”

Steve very briefly considers about asking but decides against it.

“I have to find her,” El says, fists clenched.

Steve sighs, “And you’re coming to me with this because…?”

The kids exchange glances. Eventually Lucas says, “Because you have a driver’s licence?”

Steve laughs. “That didn’t seem to matter to you guys before.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I _told_ you he wouldn’t want to do it. Now he’s probably going to tell our parents and ruin the whole thing.” She crosses her arms moodily. Lucas rubs her shoulder.

Dustin jumps immediately to Steve’s defence. “Hey! Steve wouldn’t do that to us, he’s cool with it! Right, Steve?” He looks kind of heartbroken. Steve sighs. This is a ploy, probably. All a ploy. They’ve rehearsed it.

He’ll still fall for it. They already know that. Especially Dustin. Kid can play him like a fiddle. He might as well get this over with.

“I’m not driving you to Chicago unless I have your parents’ permission,” he mutters.

Dustin’s face lights up like it’s Christmas. El and Mike grin at each other. Even Will cracks a smile.

“All of them,” Steve adds, looking between them. “Every one of them. I’ll ask for signed permission slips if I have to. You got that, nerds?”

None of them are even remotely intimidated by this.

“You’re the best, man,” Dustin says, punching Steve on the arm.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Steve mutters, wondering how the fuck this is his life.

\---

Johnathon Byers corners him on Monday at school, edging around Steve’s locker like he’s still slightly worried Steve’ll throw a punch at him or something. They haven’t really spoken since the demo-dogs incident. Not on purpose or anything but they don’t really move in the same orbits and since Nancy’s not in Steve’s life much anymore, Johnathon’s pretty much faded out to the background.

“So my mom said you’re taking my brother to Chicago for a few days,” Johnathon opens with. He’s all hunched up, jacket two sizes too big for him, fidgeting with the book he’s holding. He’s always been scrawny, maybe Steve’s just noticing it more now. How runty Johnathon is, how delicate. Him and Nancy both.

Steve shuts his locker. “Yeah, it’s not quite the road trip I’ve been dreaming of but let’s be honest, they would have gone anyway. It’s nice they asked me.”

Johnathon’s smile is weak. “Yeah, they probably would have.” He shifts, scuffs his feet. “You know, me and Nancy could uh – I mean we don’t have plans or, or anything – ”

 _Me and Nancy,_ he says. It shouldn’t still feel like a kick in the teeth but it does. It really fucking does. At least when Billy Hargrove broke his face the cuts healed, the bruises faded, Nancy still smarts.

She’s happy though, he tells himself over and over. She’s happy, she’s happy, she’s happy. She’s happy and safe and content with Johnathon and Steve just has to be okay with that.

“If you wanna come, man, come,” Steve says. “I’m not going to say no to more age appropriate company.”

Johnathon blinks like he hadn’t been expecting that response at all. “Uh, okay. I’ll talk to Nance.”

“Great,” Steve smiles.

Johnathon nods, lingers for a moment awkwardly before he leaves. Steve stares after him, shakes his head.

The bell goes.

Billy Hargrove shoves him into a locker as he passes by. “Sorry, your majesty!”

“It’s alright, Hargrove,” Steve shouts after him. “I know it must be difficult to see with your head rammed that far up your ass!”

\---

Saturday arrives before Steve knows it and he still hasn’t heard anything from Johnathon or Nancy. Maybe he can call the whole thing off, say he’s ill. Maybe the kids’ll hitchhike up to Chicago alone and end up on milk cartons.

He’s up before the sun, groans as he starts throwing clothes into a duffel bag and throws some jeans on. He’s borrowed a minivan from a friend of his dad’s, the big kind they use to ferry around school sports teams and the like. It’s a bitch to drive but at least it’s got seat belts.

Dustin’s first, already waiting out front with his bag on his knees. His mom cries and hugs Steve and cries some more and Dustin strokes her arm and tells her he’ll call her every night. She starts crying again as they wave them off. Dustin smiles and waves at her from the passenger seat.

Lucas is next, then Max.

Like Dustin, she’s sat out front on the porch. Unlike Dustin she’s not alone. Steve’s gut clenches involuntarily. Billy’s sat out on the porch with her, cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth.  Lucas and Dustin inhale as well, bracing for a fight.

“Stay here,” Steve says. “I’ll sort this.”

As he steps out of the van Max stomps over to him, face like thunder. “My step-dad’s making him come,” she says, miserably, scuffing her feet.

“No,” Steve says. “No. That’s not happening.”

“He says I can’t go if Billy doesn’t come with me.” She glances back towards the house just as the front door opens and a man leans out, eyes narrowed.

Honestly, it’s probably quite a reasonable reaction to your twelve year old step-daughter asking to road-trip down to Chicago with a strange high schooler. It probably says quite a lot about Hawkins that none of the other parents even batted an eyelid.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve mutters. “And there’s no way around it?”

Max is chewing on her bottom lip. She shakes her head. She looks behind Steve to the van. Steve turns just in time to see Lucas presses his palm up against the glass like they’re in some shitty romance flick. _Jesus._

“Alright,” he says. “Go put your stuff in the van.”

She scampers off and Steve walks up to the house. Billy stands, duffel bag hanging carelessly from one shoulder. His dad has stepped out of the house behind him and stands with his arms folded. “I want you to know that I’m only allowing Maxine to do this because her mother and I haven’t seen her this happy since we moved here,” Mr Hargrove says. “But since neither of us have met you I hope you’ll understand that we want her brother around just in case.”

Steve nods politely. “Of course, sir.”

Mr Hargrove thumps Billy on the shoulder. Billy flinches. “See? Not that hard, is it?” he hisses.

Billy licks his lips, clenches his free hand into a fist. “No, sir.” He says.

“Exactly.” He grabs Billy’s arm, grips it tight. “So _behave_ for once in your life or there will be consequences.”

Steve’s gotta admit, he’s sort of enjoying watching Billy get taken down a peg or two.

Billy’s dad lets him go, shoves him lightly down the steps. To Steve he says, “I expect Maxine back here no later than Friday morning, young man. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says. He shakes the hand Mr Hargrove offers and Billy rolls his eyes.

“I’m riding shotgun,” he announces when they reach the van. Then he sneers, “Jeez, King Steve, you borrow this from your mom?”

Steve ignores him. “I’m not doing this, Hargrove.”

Billy knocks into him deliberately on his way round to the passenger side. He slams the van door open and shut loudly and yanks open the glove compartment. “Your taste in music is shit,” he says, glancing at the tapes.

“Better than yours,” Max says, from the backseats.

Billy rolls his eyes, slamming the glove compartment shut. He slouches down low in his seat, “What the fuck ever, bitches. Just wake me up when we’re in Chicago and we can go our separate ways.”

“Works for me,” Steve mutters, as he reverses out of the driveway.

\---

They’re picking up Mike and Will from Mike’s house, both Nancy and Johnathon are in the front yard as well. Billy’s either asleep, or pretending very hard to be which suits Steve just fine.

“You don’t have to do this you know, Steve,” Nancy says to him, arms wrapped around herself in the morning chill. She’s only wearing a thin cardigan, Steve can see the goosepimples on her wrists where they’re exposed.

It takes Steve a moment to figure out what she’s really saying there, what she really means. _You don’t have to do this for me,_ she’s saying. _It won’t change anything._ And it hurts. It makes him think of that Halloween party, of Nancy looking up at him drunk and belligerent, eyes open and more honest than he’s probably ever seen them. _It’s bullshit, Steve. You’re bullshit._

If he’d stayed that night maybe things would be different.

Steve rubs absently at his chest.

“If I don’t drive them Max will and they will all die in a fiery crash,” he tells her.

Jonathon appears then, puts an arm around her. He’s a little more warmly dressed and Nancy leans into his gratefully. “You gonna be okay?” he asks, eyes fixed on Billy in the passenger seat, head lolled against the window.

“I’ve got my bat just in case,” Steve says with a wink.

Jonathon laughs, Nancy smiles. “We’d come,” she says. “But Mike’s already lectured me about how uncool it would be if I came too. I think he’s worried I’ll embarrass him in front of his girlfriend. Not that he’s not capable of doing that himself.” She worries at her bottom lip, “I feel bad making you go up there alone, though.”

“Maybe we can drive up in my car, say Steve forgot something or something like that,” Jonathon suggests. He’s rubbing Nancy’s shoulder up and down.

 _No,_ he wants to say. _I can’t handle if you’re both there together,_ but he can’t push those words out past his teeth so instead he makes this noncommittal sound and says, “Could work.”

\---

It should be three hour drive to Chicago but after they pick up Eleven and accounting for bathroom stops Steve figures it’ll be more like five. Nancy and Jonathon will leave an hour or so after they do, meet them at the motel. Steve figures he can break the news to Mike then. Or never. Just let the little shit figure it out when Jonathon’s piece of shit car pulls up in the parking lot.

Chief Hopper’s stood outside with Eleven when they pick her up just outside of town. He greets Steve with a look that makes him very, very sorry for any boy Eleven tries to date later on in life. How Eleven convinced Hopper to let this happen, Steve’ll never know.

“Look after them,” Hopper says, as Steve steps out of the van.

“I will,” Steve promises and Hopper snorts.

“I wasn’t talking to you, kid.”

He shares a secret smile with Eleven. Steve sighs. Hopper punches him on the shoulder with an affectionate smirk.

As Eleven clambers into the van the kids start chattering. Billy, who’s given up pretending to be asleep, starts drumming on the dashboard, “Come the fuck on, Harrington,” he calls out of the window. “I wanna get to Chicago so I can ditch you losers.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”

“I don’t even know where to start with that one,” Steve mutters.

Hopper clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Don’t let anyone get themselves killed,” he says and then they’re off.

Between Billy and the kids, Steve has a pounding headache before noon. It’s a bright day, snow thick on the ground. Steve buys a pair of cheap sunglasses from the third gas station they stop at, lets the kid’s pick him out a cool pair and ends up with these hot pink monstrosities that have Billy in stitches. Billy buys a six pack. Dustin gets motion sick after an hour and half and they have to stop for that as well.

It all culminates in them pulling up at the motel to find Nancy and Jonathon already waiting for them.

Their motel is on the outskirts of the city, made up of two blocks of rooms and a pool out front. The pool’s uncovered and full. They’re sat on the hood of the car, heads bent low together. They’re facing away from the van but as Steve steps out Nancy laughs. Her full body laugh, the one that she tries desperately to smother, that leaves her shoulders shaking, has her hiding her face.

She presses it into Jonathon’s neck.

“Fucking finally,” Billy mutters, slamming out of the van behind Steve.

The sound of the door has Jonathon and Nancy springing apart and they turn as one just as Mike steps out and says, “What the _hell_?”

\---

It turns out it’s a hell of a lot easier wrangling the little shits with Jonathon and Nancy’s help. They get four rooms; one for the boys, one for El and Max, one for Jonathon and Nancy and Steve gets to share with Billy. It’s like all his birthdays and Christmases have come at once. Billy fucked off as soon as they got the room keys, Steve can only hope he stays gone.

The kids are under strict orders not to run off to find Eleven’s sister until at least the next morning and honestly, Steve would like nothing more than to shower and sleep but Nancy insists he at least eats first. The surly woman behind the motel desk recommends a pizza place within walking distance, the kids take the lead, Steve drags behind. Nancy keeps smiling at him like she’s trying not to laugh and Steve manages to ignore it until they reach the pizza place and Jonathon steps away from their booth.

“ _What_?” Steve snaps, irritated.

Nancy smirks at him. “Nothing. Just, you remind me of my Mom after we’ve been on a family road trip or something.”

Steve closes his eyes and snorts. “Yeah? And she’s only got three kids.”

Nancy laughs. Behind her Dustin leans over from his table to theirs, “Steve,” he says, urgently. “We can get dessert, right?”

\---

Dinner is kind of awkward. Steve’s head still pounds and even a pepperoni deep dish can’t fix that. Nancy and Jonathon share a milkshake, sneak bites out of each other’s meals. They keep jerking away from one another, keep giving each other these long, impenetrable looks when they think Steve’s not looking. It’s like they’re trying not to upset him, like they’re somehow aware of how their constant touching makes his skin crawl, makes his chest tight.

It makes everything worse.

He’s doing that to them. To Nancy. He’s making her look so worried.

Back at the motel, he takes a long shower, turns the water up so hot it makes his skin sting. He’s got bruises on his arm from Billy grabbing him too hard during basketball practise. He tilts his face up to the spray, lets the water flood his mouth and nose until he can’t breathe anymore.

He stands there until the water runs cold.

The motel sheets are scratchy but they smell clean, faintly floral. Nancy’s sheets smelt like this sometimes. She never liked it, complained it was the cheaper stuff. She liked the regular stuff her mom bought. The detergent Steve’s mom buys doesn’t smell like much of anything. Like everything else in the house. Cool, sterile. Only good for keeping up appearances.

Steve falls asleep on his front, arms spread out like he’s in freefall.

\---

In his dreams he’s in the tunnels again. Must have gotten turned around because he can’t figure out if he’s meant to be coming or going but the bat that’s slung over his shoulder is slick and wet and dripping with something.

He can’t find the way out so he just keeps walking, trying to keep his breathing steady. The air in the tunnels is damp and stale though, keeps catching in his throat.

He keeps walking. The tunnel walls are damp, pressing in on him.

He’s just starting to panic when the screaming starts. He can’t figure out who it is at first but the screams get louder. It sounds like Dustin. It sounds like Nancy. It sounds like –

\---

He’s jerked awake by Billy thumping him with a damp towel. “Wake the fuck up, _Harrington_! You used all the hot water!”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck – ” Steve mumbles, rolling away mostly through instinct. It takes him a while to remember where he is, what’s happening. He stares blearily up at Billy. “Fuck, Hargrove. Couldn’t you just stay gone?”

Billy snorts, thwaps at him again with the towel. “What? You think I can afford to turn down a room paid for by your daddy?”

“More like couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Steve mutters. He rolls onto his side and squeezes his eyes shut. Billy laughs somewhere behind him. Steve already knows Billy’s about to yank the covers off him, he’s too tired to resist.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, princess,” he says, tossing Steve’s blanket in the direction of the bathroom. Luckily, it falls just short of the sopping wet floor. Steve rolls onto his back just in time to see Billy drop the towel around his midriff.

Steve flinches. “Come on, man.”

Billy laughs again. “You get to use all the hot water, _I_ get to sleep comfortably.” He throws himself down on the empty bed. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the view, Harrington.”

Billy clicks his light off. Steve lies still for a moment in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling while he waits for the anger stewing in his gut to over boil, to give him the energy he needs to get up and fetch his blanket. Billy’s already snoring by the time Steve makes it up and Steve lingers, blanket in hand, mulling over the pros and cons of filling a bucket up with water and dumping the whole thing over Billy’s head.

It’s not worth it though, not if he wants to get any sleep tonight, so he dumps the blanket back on his bed and steps outside before he can even really think it through. It’s a mistake, he knows that the second the night air hits him. It’s fucking _freezing_ and he’s stood there in a thin cotton t-shirt and pyjama pants. It’s enough to distract him from the massive Hargrove-shaped pain in his ass at least.

He wraps his arms around himself in a futile attempt to keep warm, is about to head back inside when he hears a quiet voice to his left. “Steve?”

He turns.

Jonathan’s lounging against the wall outside his and Nancy’s room, much more appropriately dressed than Steve. The space between the rooms is dimly light, so Jonathan’s face is mostly in shadow. Steve can picture his expression though: eyes crinkled, mouth slightly turned downward. Slightly concerned, mostly uncertain.

“You’re gonna freeze dressed like that.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly planning on being out here that long so…” Steve says.

Jonathan huffs out a breath, it hangs in the air before him for a few moments in a little curl of steam. He nods. “Everything okay with Hargrove?”

“Just _peachy._ ”

“Right,” Jonathan says. He fidgets awkwardly for a few moments then ducks his head to say, “You know, if he’s really bothering you or something you could come sleep in our room. We’ve got a bunch of spare pillows so you could lay them out on the floor or…” He trails off.

Coming from anyone else, Steve would think the offer was more a taunt - _Come sleep on the floor by the bed I’m sharing with the love of your useless life, Harrington –_ But Jonathan is so damn _earnest_ about it. So damn _gentle_.

“No,” Steve says, when the silence between them has stretched too far. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

Jonathan makes this sound of what is obviously relief and nods. Steve imagines Jonathan’s cheeks are flushed, a bright angry red that usually only makes an appearance when Nancy defends him to someone else at school. Steve wonders for a moment whether the blush would make Jonathan’s cheeks warm to the touch, thinks absently of running his thumb along cheekbones. It’s Nancy he’s thinking of. _Nancy._

Jonathan clears his throat. “Well, uh, good night.”

Steve blinks. “Yeah, see you in the morning.” His voice sounds faint, distant. When he turns to head back into his room he’s pretty sure Jonathan stands there watching him. Maybe the uncertainty has ebbed out of his expression now. Maybe it’s just concern.

Hopefully Nancy’s already asleep. Hopefully Jonathan keeps this to himself.

Back in the room, Steve curls himself as tightly as he can under his blanket, body bent awkwardly to avoid the damp patches left by Billy’s towel. He shivers as his body readjusts itself to the warmth, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth chattering.

His dreams this time are full of people with shadowed faces always just out of Steve’s grasp.

\---

Over a breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup, Dustin and Lucas plead their case to be allowed free reign of the city. Max and Will chime in now and then, El and Mike mostly just stare intensely.

“No,” Steve says, every time one of the kids pause for breath. “No. No, no, _no_.”

“Come _on_ ,” Dustin whines.

Steve pushes a corner of pancake absently around his plate. “Yeah, the answers still nope, kid. Jeez, I’m pretty sure I knew the meaning of that simple two letter word by the time I was in middle school.”

Dustin huffs, this full body sigh that involves him tilting his head back and throwing himself dramatically back against the booth. Eleven and Mike exchange a look and sigh. Lucas settles for looking at Steve like he’s the single greatest disappointment Lucas has ever experienced in his young life. Steve has this sudden flash of them all as teenagers; Dustin flouncy and dramatic, El and Mike stubborn and angsty, Lucas he thinks will still be the level headed one but that’ll wear on him someday.

He catches Nancy’s eye over Dustin’s head, she and Jonathan have Will and Max at a separate booth. She’s smiling at him again, half-proud, half-amused but then Jonathan comes back from the bathroom and her attention shifts to him, the smile changes from amused to warm. Comfortable. Steve’s gaze shifts too. He watches Jonathan’s awkward little half smile as he says something to the table, watches him ruffle Will’s hair affectionately.

He sets down his fork.

“Alright you shits, stop whining and eat your breakfast so we can get on with this.”

\---

They most of the next few days driving around the outskirts of the city, visiting abandoned warehouses and factories and office blocks as El gets more and more distressed. Billy was gone when they got back from breakfast that first day and thankfully, he stays gone.

“It’s okay,” Mike says, on the day three. He’s rubbing her back in soothing circles while the other kids watch with looks of varying degrees of concern on their faces. “It’s okay, El.”

“No,” El says. “She knows, Mike. She _knows._ ”

Mike’s mouth thins and he looks up at the rest of his friends. A wordless conversation transpires and Steve, who has hung back with Nancy and Jonathan by the van says, “So they’re _definitely_ going to try and sneak out.”

Nancy looks kind of surprised but Jonathan doesn’t. He leans in closer to Steve, a warm weight against Steve’s left side and says, “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised they haven’t tried before now.”

They form a plan over dinner. There’s no point in pretending they don’t know what the kids are up to so Nancy ends up posted in with the girls, Jonathan in with the boys while Steve hangs about outside to dissuade any escape attempts. Jonathan’s meant to switch with him halfway through the night so Steve can get some sleep but Steve’s pretty sure Jonathan will fall asleep before then so he’s not holding out much hope.

Steve’s wrapped up warmer than he had been that first night, a shirt, two jumpers and a jacket, boots and thick wool socks. Nancy’s leant him a scarf, Jonathan a hat. He’s been to the diner, stocked up on espressos and poured them into a cheap flask the motel owner handed to him with far less questions than should have been asked. He’s as prepared as anyone can reasonably be expected to be to stakeout a group of twelve years olds in a relatively small motel.

He settles himself on top of the van and hunkers down to wait.

He doesn’t have to wait long but it’s less an escape attempt and more a telekinetic twelve year old storming out of her room while Nancy stares on looking livid. Eleven looks at Steve and makes this wordless noise of irritation and anger and Steve tries to remind himself that yes, while Eleven could definitely kill him if she wanted to she seems a lot more reasonable these days so she probably won’t.

“I got this, Nance!” He shouts, sliding off the van and it looks like Nancy nods before she shuts the door to the girl’s room. “Now, what exactly do you think you’re doing, young lady?” He asks as he approaches, keeping his voice light.

He hasn’t spent all that much time around Eleven. He’d like to pretend it’s not because she scares him far more than any of the other things that have crawled out of Hawkins lab but he’s never been all that great about hiding his true feelings. It’s almost like he can feel the rage rolling off her. It crackles in the air around them like lightning, an ever present unknowable threat. Hop’s well suited to her, he thinks. He’s the kind of man that would stand there, rooted to the ground and stern as ever while she pulled the room around him apart with her mind.

Steve’s pretty sure he’d run a mile if it came down to it.

“I have to find her,” she says, haltingly, like it’s taking all the energy she has not to scream it at him. “And you’re not helping.”

“Tell me how to help, then.” Steve says, simply.

“Let me go alone,” El says.

“Yeah, here’s the thing, I kinda promised your dad I wouldn’t.”

“He’s not my dad,” El says quickly. “And he knows I’ll go alone. He knows you’ll let me too. We made a bet on it.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

El smiles.

“You didn’t,” Steve insists. “Eleven, tell me you didn’t.”

She keeps smiling for a few moments. Looks like a kid, a real kid, but then the smile fades, replaced by something sad and serious. “If we don’t find her together, I’m going to go on my own anyway,” she says quietly. “It’s not like you could actually keep me here.”

Steve hums. “If that’s so then why are you still here?”

El sighs, looks back towards the motel, meaning clear. “They won’t let me leave alone.”

“Well, they’re worried about you,” Steve says. “They don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” El says. She looks away, down at her hands. She’s wearing gloves, pink and glittery. Steve’s not sure whether she picked them out for herself or Hopper bought them as some sort of joke. She flexes her fingers, in and out, in and out. “I don’t want her to get hurt either.”

“Her your sister,” Steve says.

“Her my sister,” El confirms.

This time Steve sighs. Scuffs his boots, rubs at the back of his neck. If he lets her go and she doesn’t come back there’ll be hell to pay. But if she’s going to go either way, maybe it’s better she has his permission, maybe he can set some ground rules at least.

“El,” he says. “Look – ” but he breaks off when there’s a sound to his left. A familiar chittering sound that sends chills down Steve’s spine. He glances over El’s shoulder, one after the other, spots the creature lurking in the shadows by the motel pool.

“Eleven,” he says, very quietly. “Don’t move.”

El of course completely ignores this; turns around before Steve’s even really finished saying the words.

What happens next, Steve’s not really sure of. The demo-dog moves, launches itself forward and Steve’s lurching forwards to do something, anything, when he feels claws, bright and hot and sharp cut into back.

He thinks he screams.

\---

When he wakes up he feels light and soft and floaty. He’s somewhere warm, somewhere dim. He twitches his limbs experimentally, they’re heavy but they’re all still intact. He opens his eyes slowly, finds Jonathan leant over him.

“Holy shit,” Jonathan says. “You’re awake.” He smiles, breathless with relief and turns, “Nance! Nancy! He’s awake, he’s awake!”

Steve becomes aware of the fact that Jonathan’s currently pressing something cool and damp to his forehead. He tries to look up at it, gets a bit cross eyed in the process.

“You hit your head pretty bad,” Jonathan explains. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I – uh – ” His thoughts are slow, sluggish. Random bursts of noise and colour, slowly, slowly coming together to form a picture. “Eleven,” he says. “There was a – a demo-thing – ”

Jonathan starts to frown. His forehead creases, makes him look a lot older than he really is. He opens his mouth to say something when the room door bursts open and Nancy and the kids pour in. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of voices speaking at once, overlapping. Steve closes his eyes against it.

“Hey, be quiet you guys, alright?” He hears Jonathan say. “And don’t crowd him, give him room to breathe.”

“Ask him where El is,” he hears Mike demand and that has him shooting up, almost throwing Jonathan off the bed in the process.

“She’s _missing_?” Steve yelps. “What – ” But then his world starts spinning, his stomach lurches. He closes his eyes, clamps his jaw shut with a groan. Someone, Jonathan he guesses, gently eases him back down to the bed.

“Take it easy, Steve,” he says.

When Steve opens his eyes again, Nancy on his other side, lips pursed with worry. She strokes his cheek, his hair.

“Those things must have taken her,” Steve says.

“What things?” Dustin asks, from somewhere to Steve’s right.

“The demo – demo thingies.”

“Demodogs,” Dustin says just as Max says, “Bullshit, there was nothing out there! Me and Nancy were watching the whole time. We woulda seen them.”

“I think Steve knows what he saw, Max,” Dustin snaps.

“Why would he lie?” Lucas adds.

“I’m not – I’m not lying,” Steve says. He looks at Nancy. “Right, Nance? Or did – Did you really not see them?”

She looks uncomfortable, worried, she keeps checking his forehead like he’s got a fever or something. “I saw you fall,” she says eventually. “Then all the lights went out. When they came back, El was gone and you weren’t moving.”

“My back,” Steve says. “I felt it on my back – it had claws – ”

Nancy and Jonathan exchange a look.

“Your back’s fine, Steve,” Jonathan says slowly. “Does it hurt?”

Steve frowns. “No.”

Another worried look.

“I think maybe you hit your head harder than we thought,” Jonathan says. He looks at Nancy, “Maybe we should take him to the E.R.”

Nancy looks down at him again considering.

Then Mike speaks. “No,” he says. “I don’t think it’s his head. El said her sister’s like her. She can make people see things that aren’t there.”

Jonathan looks relieved, Nancy turns in the direction of her little brother with a scowl. “Might have been nice to know that upfront, Mike.”

“Might have been nice to know you were _coming_ upfront, Nance,” Mike snaps back.

“Guys, guys,” Dustin says. “Let’s not turn this into another Billy and Max dynamic.”

“Yeah, why can’t you guys be more like Will and Jonathan, huh?” Lucas says.

The Wheeler kids glare at each other until Mike huffs. “Whatever. We need to find El.”

“How?” Will asks. “We have no idea where she is or if she wants to be found.”

“She wants to be found, guys,” Mike insists.

“Will’s right,” Lucas says. “Where would we even start?”

“Plus we’re one driver down,” Dustin points out.

“ _And_ her sister has creepy mind-rape powers,” Max says.

“So what? We just leave her out there?”

“No one’s suggesting that, Mike,” Jonathan says.

“It sounds like it!”

Jonathan ignores him, looks at Nancy. “What do you think?”

Nancy sighs, sets her hands on her hips. “We could try a few of the places Eleven took us to. I mean, it can’t hurt, right? One of us can stay here with Steve?”

Jonathan nods. “Alright, you stay here and I’ll – ”

Max interrupts him. “No offence, but if we’re voting I’d much rather have Nancy with us.”

Jonathan looks honestly hurt. “What’s wrong with my brother?” Will asks.

“Nothing,” Max says. “I’m sure he’s good at – uh – something? But Nancy can shoot. I’ve seen her. And she has a gun, so.”

Steve and Jonathan speak at the exact same time. “You brought a _gun_?”

Nancy shrugs, “It’s a hunting rifle. And can you honestly blame me?”

“I vote Nancy too,” Dustin says, quickly.

“Oh, come on guys, no,” Mike says.

“And me!” Lucas chimes in.

“She has a _gun_ , Mike,” Will says, softly. “Jonathan has a camera and a hundred mixed tapes.”

Mike sighs.

“Okay,” Nancy says. “I guess we’re going then.”

\---

Jonathan lies beside him the bed and worries, pokes him whenever it looks like he’s drifting off. “If you have a concussion you shouldn’t sleep,” he keeps saying, over and over. Steve whines and bats his hand away. He should get up and help look for Eleven but every time he moves it’s like the whole world moves with him.

“Chief Hopper is going to _kill_ me,” he says, miserably.

Jonathan pats him on the knee. “Not if they find her.”

“Fuck,” Steve mumbles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He should have stayed home. Maybe the kids wouldn’t have bothered. Maybe they’d have worn Hopper down and he would have taken them. Steve’s such a godamned moron. Fuck. _Fuck._

“Hey,” Jonathan says. “Ease up.”

And Steve looks at him in confusion for a moment before he realises he’s clenching his hands in the sheets. He lets go slowly.

Jonathan is still watching him. “This isn’t your fault, you know,” he says, carefully.

Steve snorts. “You’re a shitty liar, Byers.”

Something flickers past Jonathan’s gaze not annoyance or hurt, something more like worry. “I’m not lying, Steve. Really.”

Steve scoffs, turns his head away from Jonathan to stare at the wall and blinks away the nausea. For a moment Jonathan’s quiet then he sighs and says, “Look, Steve I know we haven’t really talked since – since well, everything and it must have felt like me and Nancy weren’t there for you but – ”

Steve closes his eyes. He doesn’t need this. Doesn’t want this. He’s not a little kid or whatever. He doesn’t need Jonathan to apologise for Nancy choosing him over Steve.

“It’s fine,” Steve says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He sighs. “Sorry. That didn’t sound sincere but it is. I mean it. You don’t owe me a thing, Byers. Nancy made her choice and I just have to accept that.”

“Nancy – ” Jonathan starts but Steve’s chest feels like it might burst so he says, loudly, “Could we please not? Can we talk about anything else? Anything?”

“Uh, okay,” Jonathan says.

They start with music which mostly involves Jonathan getting stressed about all the bands Steve has never heard of and Steve asking him why the fuck he should care about random little bands from Britain. They move on to movies, have a painfully short talk about sports which honestly, Steve hasn’t really given a fuck about for years but they’re the only thing he’s halfway good at it and knowledgeable about so it’s nice to be the one rolling his eyes for a change. Then they end up on school.

“Nancy mentioned she was helping you with your applications,” Jonathan says. “Did you get any replies yet?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Oh,” Jonathan says. “Well, I’m sure you well.”

“Probably not though,” Steve says. “Since I didn’t actually send any out.”

Jonathan narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

 _Because I’m not going to get in,_ Steve thinks. _Because my dad thinks college is for fags and geniuses and I am neither one. Because it would be easier to just work for him. Because it all felt fucking pointless if there was no one there who made it feel worthwhile._

He can’t say any of that out loud though. It all sounds pathetic. Instead, Steve shrugs.

Jonathan nods, looking anywhere but at Steve. “So uh, what’re you gonna do?”

Steve shrugs again. “Work for my dad probably.”

“Oh. Are you guys close?”

Steve can’t help but laugh. “No. He’s an asshole. But he’ll get me a job that pays better than anything I could find on my own, so.”

Jonathan looks at him then and Steve has never in his life considered that fact that one day, Jonathan fucking Byers would be looking at him with pity. “Steve – ” he starts but the door opens just then and it’s like some kind of spell is broken. Steve notices the weak light of dawn pouring in through the curtains as Nancy and the kids pile through the door, looking exhausted.

Jonathan scrambles to his feet, Steve props himself up. “Did you find her?” they ask.

Nancy shakes her head wearily.

Steve lets his head hit the pillow. “ _Fuck_.”

\---

They end up sleeping all in one room after that. Jonathan and Nancy on one bed with Steve; Max, Will, Dustin, Lucas and Mike on the other.

There’s less shoving than Steve would have imagined, less grumbling about blankets. They’re all exhausted though, some of the kids are asleep before they’ve even really lain down and Jonathan goes around moving them into more comfortable positions, makes sure they’re not crammed too close together. Nancy’s already asleep when Jonathan makes it back to the bed, curled on one side to Steve’s right, head pillowed on one arm. Her boots are still on, Jonathan sighs and slips them off before he moves her a little closer to Steve and climbs in behind her.

He reaches up to shut off the light. In the darkness, Nancy reaches for Steve, curls a hand around his arm and sighs in her sleep. “Am I allowed to sleep now?” Steve stage-whispers to Jonathan.

“Sure,” Jonathan mumbles, half asleep already.

And Steve reasons that if he does die or his brain falls out of his ears in his sleep then at least he would have to face Hopper, right?

\---

The next day – or afternoon since that’s when most of them regain consciousness – Jonathan and Nancy declare Steve as still too fragile to drive but he talks them in to letting him come along as a passenger. They don’t find Eleven. Don’t find even the barest hint of her anywhere. Steve feels sick. Mike snaps at around 7pm and starts crying and Nancy rubs shushes him and rubs his back in slow, soothing circles and the other kids are all sniffling, red eyed and overtired and Jonathan says, “I think we should eat.”

They get take out, pile back into Nancy and Jonathan’s motel room and spread out in front of some lame old movie. Steve ends up on one of the beds with Dustin pressed close against him on one side and Max, carefully not touching him, on the other. Lucas is sprawled out at the foot of Steve’s bed, Mike and Will tucked up against their respective siblings’ sides on the other. Mike’s already asleep against Nancy’s shoulder.

“So um, what’re we going to do if we don’t find her?” Dustin asks, very, very quietly.

Steve cuts a glance over to Nancy and Jonathan before answering. “We’ll find her buddy,” he says. “Don’t you worry.”

Dustin sighs. “Steve, don’t talk to me like I’m a kid, okay? The fact that you usually don’t is the reason we asked you and not our parents.”

“No, you asked me and not your parents because you know I’m a moron who says _sounds great_ when a bunch of twelve year olds I’m not even related to ask me to drive them to Chicago to find a super-villain in training.”

Max snorts.

Dustin thumps Steve on the shoulder. “This isn’t funny.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Steve snaps.

“Hey,” Jonathan finally steps in. “Fighting isn’t going to help anything.”

Dustin sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Steve knocks his hat off, ruffles his hair. “It’s fine, pipsqueak.”

“We just need a plan,” Max says.

“And we should tell Chief Hopper,” Will says.

Lucas turns to face Steve with a look of dawning horror. “You haven’t told him yet?”

Steve stares right back at him. “I was literally with you all day, Lucas. Did you see us stop to make a call?”

“We _should_ call him though,” Nancy says.

“I’ll do it,” Jonathan offers. Steve looks at him gratefully.

Nancy nods. “Okay, so that’s one thing. Then I guess we need to figure out where Eleven’s sister’s likely to take her. Did El mention anything to any of you about her? Anything that might help us find her?”

“Her names Kelly,” Dustin says.

“ _Kali,_ ” Lucas corrects.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”

“I mean not really,” Lucas says.

“ _Guys_ ,” Jonathan interrupts.

“She hung out with a bunch of people,” Will offers. “I helped El draw them. One of them had spikey hair and Kali had purple hair, I think.”

“Okay,” Nancy says, nodding thoughtfully. “Good, good.”

Steve doesn’t see how any of this is helpful but then Max, who has been chewing on her nails thoughtfully, says, “We could maybe ask Billy. He used to hang out with people like that in California. He might know the kind of bars they go to.”

Dustin stares at her. “You think they go to bars? Really, Max? Bars?” He says it like it’s the most ludicrous suggestion he’s ever heard and Steve glances over at Jonathan and Nancy just to check that yes, they’re equally confused by Dustin’s incredulity.

“Why not?” Max says, defensively.

“Because they drive around the country and _kill_ people, Max! That’s why!” As soon as he’s said it, he claps his hand over his mouth. “Oh _no_.” He whispers.

Max and Will both go very quiet and pale and still. Lucas flops down on the bed with this long-suffering sigh. “Why do we even tell you things anymore, man?”

\---

Steve goes with Jonathan to make the call. Slightly because they’re all a little too nervy to go anywhere alone but mostly because he can’t take being cooped up in that room anymore. He leans on the booth while Jonathan holds the receiver to his ear and waits. “No answer,” Jonathan says, setting the phone back in it’s cradle.

“Did you try your place?” Steve asks, honestly.

Jonathan glares at him, “Why would he be at my place.”

Steve honestly can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Well, he – ” he starts but Jonathan sighs.

“He won’t be there. They’re still dancing around each other like they haven’t figured it out yet.” He chews on his bottom lip absently. “Maybe I should call her though. She could try and call him later to let him know. Or try him at the station.”

“Sure man,” Steve says. “Go for it.”

Listening in on Jonathan’s conversation with Hopper to make the call would have been one thing, listening in to his phone call to his mom is another so Steve bows out. Settles himself on the ground against the wall of the motel a little way away from the booth but still close enough that he can step in if there’s trouble. He can hear the soft soothing tones in Jonathan’s voice and Steve wonders if that’s how he sounds when he talks to his Mom. Probably not. His gentleness with her probably sounds fake, laced with years upon years of bitterness.

When Jonathan’s done, he steps out of the booth and covers his eyes briefly before coming over to join Steve against the wall. “You tell her?” Steve asks.

Jonathan nods. “She’s gonna try and track Hop down and call us back.”

“At least I’ll have a warning before he drives up here and kills me,” Steve laments.

Jonathan sighs. “It’s not like they didn’t know we were bringing them up here. You had their permission, Steve. This isn’t your fault.” He touches Steve’s arm lightly, not quite an affectionate pat or thump but still enough to send a jolt of warmth through Steve. Steve tells himself it’s the warmth that has his insides fluttering, nothing more than that.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll see it that way,” Steve mutters. He looks down at the ground. “You really think that kid’s sister drives around and kills people?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan says quietly. He draws his knees up to his chest, it makes him look younger, like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible. After a moment Steve does the same.

“They can’t be, right?” Steve says. “I mean, it would have been on the news or something.”

Jonathan shrugs. “Maybe it was. We wouldn’t exactly know to look for it, would we? And if they’re killing people from the lab well… We know what they did about Barb.”

Steve nods. His mouth feels dry. His hands start to shake a little. “What the fuck are we involved with?” He whispers.

Jonathan shakes his head wordlessly.

\---

“I’m coming with you to find Billy,” Nancy announces.

The kids are asleep, Steve’s rooted through Billy’s stuff and turned up a flyer advertising a seedy dive bar not too far from the motel. It’s a longshot but it’s all they’ve got. Jonathan looks worn out and small, already half asleep with Will and Mike tucked up against him.

Steve doesn’t bother arguing, just shrugs, “Alright.” And Nancy deflates slightly, like she was spoiling for a fight, for Steve to say no and tell it might be dangerous.

“Be careful,” Max warns. She’s still awake, sitting up against the headboard. “He’s mean when he’s drunk.”

“He’s mean when he’s sober,” Steve points out, thinking of _all his interactions with Billy Hargrove ever._

“Yeah but he’s mean _er_ ,” Max says, twisting her mouth in a way that makes Steve really, really want to break Billy’s teeth.

Nancy lays a hand on Steve’s arm. “Don’t worry, Max. We’ll be okay.”

Max looks dubious but she sits back, content to let them leave.

Once they’re outside Steve throws an arm around Nancy’s shoulder almost instinctively. It only registers with him that he probably shouldn’t have as they climb into Jonathan’s car. “Shit, Nance,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, “For what?”

“Uh,” Steve says. “Nothing.”

\---

The bar from the flyer turns out to be in the basement of some foreclosed on building, the stench of stale sweat and piss hanging heavy in the air. Nancy wrinkles her nose, Steve makes a noise of outright disgust and looks at her, “Do we really have to do this?”

Nancy sighs. “We’d have to find him eventually.” She takes Steve’s arm and tugs him down the steps.

It’s dimly lit inside, the air is damp, music thudding through the place so loud the floor shakes. Steve’s head was already feeling tender. He winces. Nancy rubs his arm. “We’ll be in and out quickly,” she promises.

“Bet he’s not even here,” Steve mutters.

He isn’t but when they ask the bar tender – after Nancy insists – he tells them Billy has been in, reels off a few other places they might find him. Nancy scrawls them all down and thanks him politely, drops the smile as soon she they’re a safe distance away from the bar and says, “Let’s get out of this hell hole.”

They try two more before Nancy calls the motel and finds out Hop’s called back, is on his way. She beckons Steve over to the phonebooth, “Hop’s coming. You want to keep looking for Billy?”

 _No,_ Steve thinks. He really doesn’t. But he also doesn’t want to face Hopper just yet, doesn’t want to face any of the kids just yet. Nancy looks exhausted though, blue eyes shadowed by bruise-like bags. He reaches up before he can stop himself, brushes a strand of dark hair out of her eyes.

“We should probably find him before Hopper drags us all back to Hawkins,” he says. “You should go back though. Take the car. I’ve got money, I’ll get a cab.”

“Steve – ” she starts.

“ _Nance_ ,” he says.

She sighs. “Alright. Be careful.”

\---

He finds Billy in the last bar on the list. His feet hurt, his head pounds, it’s all he can do to not sob with messy relief that he’s finally found him. Billy’s slumped against the bar, cigarette dangling carelessly from his fingers. Steve marches over to him, yanks him up by the back of his shirt and says, “Come on, asshole.”

Billy jerks in surprise, drops his cigarette and turns around swinging, “The _fuck --_?” he splutters. His eyes narrow in the gloom of the bar, “ _Harrington?_ Aw, you miss me that much?”

“I don’t have time for this, Hargrove,” Steve says, grabbing Billy by the arm and dragging him towards the door. Billy stumbles after him mostly because he’s too drunk to have figured out what’s happening just yet. Steve hopes it lasts until he get them out of the bar, into a cab but of course it fucking doesn’t because this is the way Steve’s life has been going the past few months.

They’re in another basement bar, Steve’s managed to drag Billy all the way out to the corridor leading up to the stairs when Billy comes to his senses and tears his arm out of Steve’s grasp so suddenly that Steve almost falls over. “ _Fuck._ ”

He spins around to find Billy leering at him, “What the hell d’you think you’re doing, Harrington?” Billy slurs as he advances. “This wasn’t part of our fucking deal.”

Steve starts backing up. “Deals off, Billy. Somethings happened. We need – ” he breaks off, disgusted with himself. “We need your help.”

“Not my problem, Harrington,” Billy says. The clammy scent of alcohol and sweat rolls off him in waves and he lurches, or stumbles and ends up pinning Steve to the wall. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, braces himself for a punch that never comes. When he cracks open an eye, Billy’s studying his face like he’s never seen it before.

“You’re just – ” Billy says and his voice shakes. “You’re just so godamned pretty, princess.”

And for a moment, Steve’s sure Billy’s about to lean in and kiss him but he doesn’t. Instead he shakes his head and laughs, eyes wet before lurching sideways and retching.

“What the fuck?” Steve whispers. “What the _fuck._ ”

When Billy straightens up he wipes his mouth and grins at Steve, cheeks flushed, stupid hair falling into his eyes even as he shakes it off. “What’s the matter, Princess?” he slurs. “You _frightened_?” He swipes at Steve and Steve jerks back even though Billy’s aim was plainly awfully.

Billy laughs, “Look at you. Quaking with fear. Poor Steve. Lost his crown, lost his girl, lost his balls.” But the next time he lunges he stumbles, legs going weak beneath him and crashes to the floor.

Steve stays, pressed against the wall of this shitty, piss-stinking, sweat-soaked dive until he’s sure Billy’s down for the count. Only then does he shake himself and step forward. He pokes Billy gingerly with his foot a few times before he bends and hefts him up by the arm.

“ _Jesus_ , Hargrove,” he mutters, as shifts the bulk of Billy’s weight onto his shoulders. “Consider a diet maybe.”

Billy, who is apparently not as unconscious as Steve would like, snorts and says, “It’s all _muscle_ , Harrington.”

\---

Somehow, Steve manages to manhandle Billy outside and hail a cab. Somehow, Billy manages to be mostly out of it long enough for the cab to get them within walking distance of their motel (he comes to when they’re almost there, almost crashes the damned car trying to hit Steve, the cabbie, the windows – _anything_.)

He’s quiet again as Steve drags him into the parking lot of the motel. Max is still awake, up and out front, skating in a lazy circle around their van. She stops when she spots Steve, flips her board up into her hand and jogs down to meet them. Steve tried his hand at skating for a while when he was her age but he could never really get the hang of it. Luckily, he was still cool then. What he said went. If he said he didn’t want to skate because it was lame then skating was lame. It didn’t have anything to do about the broken wrist and scabby knees he ended up with.

“You found him,” Max says, stopping a safe distance away from them. She leans up on her tiptoes to peer at Billy. Half curious, half apprehensive. “How was he?”

“Oh, you know. Never met a nicer guy,” Steve grumbles.

Max keeps pace with them as they cross the lot. “He’s scary sometimes when he’s drunk,” she says.

That gives Steve reason to pause and he jostles Billy to peer round at her. “Does he get drunk around you a lot, Max?”

Max shrugs. She looks almost bafflingly unconcerned by all of this. “Mostly he just passes out.”

“He’s not like violent though?”

Max shakes her head.

Steve nods, is just about to carry on when Billy surges to life and wrenches himself from Steve’s side. “What the _fuck_?” He shouts. “Why the _hell_ were you touching me, Harrington?”

“Oh for – ” Steve mutters. He takes a few steps towards Billy. Max has scurried a safe distance away from them. “Billy, would you just – ” Steve starts but Billy lashes out, catches Steve hard enough in the chest to wind him, to send him careening backwards and Steve stumbles and then –

It’s like the ground abruptly disappears beneath his feet. For a moment, Steve’s sure it’s the Upside Down, opening up to swallow him whole. Distantly, he hears Max cry out.

Then his back hits the water.

 _The pool,_ he thinks, dimly.

\---

The water is cold.

So unbelievably cold that for a few moments, Steve can’t think. Can’t move. Can’t process.

All there is is pure, unbridled panic.

He gasps, mouth opened wide and the water pours in and that makes the whole thing _worse_ –

He’s going to die, he thinks, helplessly. Sucking in water, mouth open in a silent scream but then there’s a hand fisting into the front of his jacket and he’s being hauled out by something big and warm.

“I gotcha kid,” Hopper says. “I gotcha. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Steve shakes. He can still hear distant shouting. Hopper’s half carrying him somewhere, then he’s being shoved towards someone else and Hopper’s barking, “Get him inside and warmed up.”

He falls against someone’s chest. Hands come up and grasp him, hold him there.

“Come on, Steve,” Jonathan says, gently. He supports Steve into the one of the rooms. Nancy’s there and Joyce Byers too, eyes wide with concern saying, “Come on, sweetie, lets get you out of those wet clothes.”

\---

When the world finally stops spinning, Steve’s tucked up in one of the beds wearing a t-shirt and pyjama pants of Jonathan’s. Both of them are well-worn, washed soft and gentle against his skin. Nancy is pressed up against his left side, her hair loose and sleep-mussed, pressing a warm towel to his forehead and still damp hair. Jonathan is on his right, holding a mug of hot cocoa that Joyce magicked up from somewhere and coaxing him to take sips every now and again.

Joyce has stepped out briefly to get the kids settled, to reassure them he’s alright.

Despite it all, Steve finds himself feeling very warm, very safe, very happy.

The door opens and Chief Hopper steps in looking beyond exhausted. He takes his hat off to comb a hand briefly through his hair before putting it back on. “How’s he doing?” he asks Jonathan and Nancy.

“Okay, I think,” Nancy says. “He’s still conscious, he’s thinking clearly and speaking in full sentences.”

Hopper visibly brightens. “That so?” He looks at Steve.

Steve nods. “I feel okay,” he says. “What – What happened with Billy?”

“That kid is nightmare,” Hopper mutters. “He’s in his room. No one else got hurt.”

“And Eleven?” Steve asks.

Hopper shakes his head. Steve must look crestfallen because Hopper looks back at him and says, “Don’t worry. The kid’s tough. We’ll find her. If she was in real trouble, she’d find a way to let us know.”

He sounds so certain.

The door goes again and this time it’s Joyce. “All good?” Hopper asks her.

“All good,” she confirms. She looks across at Steve, “How’re you doing?”

“All good, Ms Byers,” Steve says.

“Good,” she says and sags slightly against the door. “I am _exhausted._ ”

“I know the feeling,” Hopper says, passing a hand across his eyes. “We can settle the rest of this in the morning, right?”

“Right,” Joyce confirms. “Will you three be alright in here? I don’t think I should leave Max on her own.”

“We’ll be fine, mom,” Jonathan assures.

“I’m gonna bunk with the boys,” Hopper says. “If he starts going into shock, do me a favour and handle it? It’s been a hell of a day.”

When they leave Nancy and Johnathan stare at the door for a long time before Nancy says, “Do you think they’re really sleeping in separate rooms?”

Steve finds himself snorting.

Johnathan’s cheeks turn pink but his mouth is twisting like he’s trying to keep from laughing. “Oh my god, Nancy, that’s my _mother._ ”

“And good for _her_ ,” Nancy says, smirking and it’s like a spell has been broken. She leans down, curls around him and Steve wants to say, _Nance, stop. We’re not like that anymore,_ but Jonathan doesn’t say anything, only smiles.

“You really okay, Steve?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. He’s never really noticed the colour of Johnathan’s eyes before, always thought of them as brown but up close they’re more hazel, made up of flecks of green and gold. Steve blinks. He must be coming down with a fever or something.

Nancy shifts closer, tosses the towel she’d been pressing to his head to the floor and rests her head next to his on the pillow. When Steve turns his head to face her they’re practically nose-to-nose. “Hi,” he says.

She smiles at him. “This might just be the worst vacation I’ve ever taken.”

“Worse then that time we got drunk we that creepy investigator?” Johnathan asks.

Steve turns to face him. “You guys did what?”

Johnathan grins. It makes him look younger, less worried.

“ _So_ much worse,” Nancy says. Then she yawns.

Johnathan looks at the mug he’s holding in his hand. “You gonna want any more of this?”

Steve shakes his head no and Johnathan nods, leaning back to set it on the bedside table. He shifts back into position and looks down at Steve, “I’m gonna turn out the lights. You need anything else before I do?”

Steve shakes his head again and Johnathan leans over to the switch. Steve closes his eyes briefly as the lights go out; when he opens them again he can barely make out Jonathan in the gloom. Johnathan shifts, lies down beside Steve in a mirror of Nancy’s position on his other side. Then his arm comes up, curls around Steve’s chest. After a moment, Nancy’s does the same on the other side.

“Is this okay?” Johnathan asks, voice low and quiet.

In the drowsy warmth of the room, Steve can’t think of any reason it wouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” he says.

\---

He wakes up to two warm bodies bracketing him. It’s early, the pale winter sun just starting to peek in under the curtains.

Johnathan’s awake beside him, green-gold eyes dark in the half-light. He leans up when he realises Steve’s awake, bottom lip caught between his teeth, brow slightly furrowed. “Steve? You okay?”

Steve nods sleepily. “Warm,” he says.

Johnathan starts to move away and Steve, before he can really think it through, reaches out to grasp his wrist. “No, warm is good. Good-warm, Johnathan.”

Johnathan settles back against him looking slightly alarmed. He reaches out after a moment to lay a cool palm against Steve’s forehead.

“I don’t have a fever,” Steve says, taking care to enunciate his words clearly this time.

“Right,” Johnathan says. His cheeks are flushed but he lays back down anyway. After a few moments of quiet breathing he says, “Steve – ” and his voice is heavy with something. Sorrow or regret and Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t want this right now. He just wants to lie here forever, curled and warm and not have to fucking think about anything.

“Johnathan, don’t,” he says.

Johnathan tenses.

“You don’t need to apologise or thank me or anything, okay? Nancy made her choice, I already told you.”

“No,” Jonathan says, relaxing a fraction. “No, Steve, you really should hear this – ”

But whatever he’s about to say gets lost because Nancy tuts impatiently and says, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you tell him. You’re taking way too long.” And then she’s tilting Steve’s head gently to face her and moving in very slowly to kiss him.

 _God_ , it’s like coming home.

She has one hand against his cheek, thumb sweeping up and down soothingly. Her other hand slips under the sheets to tangle with one of his. When she pulls away her eyes are open, wide and blue against her flushed cheeks.

Jonathan lets out a shaky breath behind him. When Steve turns to him, his lips are slightly parted and with a hesitant hand he cups Steve’s jaw. “This okay?” he asks, voice shaking.

Steve’s mouth is suddenly very dry. He feels jittery all over, like right before his first kiss in middle school. “Yeah,” he says but it comes out strangled so he swallows and tries again. “Yes.”

Jonathan leans in.

He kisses Steve cautiously at first but at some point he must figure out that Steve’s not about to push him away or break his jaw and call him fag because the kiss grows deeper, more heated until Steve gasps into his mouth and Jonathan pulls back. Under the sheets, Nancy’s hand has left his to slide up underneath his top.

Jonathan rests his forehead against Steve’s with his eyes closed for a moment before Nancy leans in to kiss him too.

\---

They lie like that until the sun fills the room until Steve’s stomach growls so loudly it makes them all jump.

“Right,” Jonathan says, panting. “We should probably – breakfast?”

Nancy laughs, nervously. “Yeah. We should breakfast.”

Steve swallows. It’s like reality’s barged back into his life. If they leave now, this might never happen again. But he doesn’t say that. Instead he says, “I could eat.”

No one else seems to be up yet so Jonathan and Nancy head down to the diner to pick up as much food as they can carry while Steve stays behind. He feels drained again. Weak and shaky and tired. He sits outside in the winter sun, bundled up in Jonathan’s spare coat and one of Nancy’s hats and leans back, closing his eyes.

When one of the doors behind him sounds, he’s expecting one of the kids or maybe Joyce but instead Billy Hargrove emerges, rubbing his eyes and fiddling with a cigarette. He pauses when he spots Steve and for a moment he scowls then something flits across his gaze and he frowns. “Fuck,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

“Yep, I feel that, Hargrove,” Steve says.

Billy rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, Harrington. I was going to say sorry I almost drowned you but I’m rethinking it.” He stalks off to the opposite end of the parking lot and Steve finds himself staring after him. When he’s done with his cigarette he makes his way back over, hovers before he goes back inside.

“I am sorry,” he says, quietly. “I was drunk. I didn’t mean to push in there. I mean, fuck, I forgot there was even a pool there. Who the fuck keeps a pool filled in winter in _Chicago?_ ”

Steve has to agree with Billy on that one. “It’s okay,” he says.

Billy stares at him. “It’s okay that I almost drowned you in a shitty motel pool in the dead of night? You’re a fucking freak, Harrington.” He shakes his head, turns back to unlock his room. “Can’t fucking believe this hick town. That guy used to rule the school? Fuck _me_.”

Then he’s gone and Steve spots Jonathan’s car sputtering down the road. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt so warm in his entire life.

\---

They wake everyone for breakfast, eat all together in the boy’s room and fill Joyce and Hopper in on what happened with El. Hopper’s pissed, doesn’t eat so much as shoves his food angrily around the little Styrofoam box it sits in.

Joyce puts a hand on his arm. “How did you find her last time?”

Hopper’s stilled in his ministrations, stares blankly down at the mess in front of him. “I put a box of Eggos out in the woods,” he says, blankly.

There’s this horrible silence that follows where no one can really figure out if he’s being serious or not. Eventually, Joyce swallows and says, “Well, that might not work here.”

“Yeah,” Hopper says, bleakly.

Mike looks between them. “So what are we gonna do? We can’t just sit around and do _nothing_.”

Joyce sets a hand on his knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her, sweetie,” she promises.

Mike doesn’t look completely convinced but he falls quiet anyway, goes back to his meal. Will reaches over to rub his shoulder.

When they’re done eating, Hop spreads out a map of the city on one of the beds, asks them to go over where they’ve already searched. Steve realises pouring over the map that there’s no guarantee Eleven’s even still in the city. No one says that though. Everyone is quiet as Hopper sets out his plan of action.

“Steve,” he says, nearing the tail-end of the speech. “I want you to stay here.”

“I feel fine though,” Steve protests. Nancy puts a hand on his shoulder. Obscured by the bed they’re bent over, Jonathan takes Steve’s hand.

“I don’t wanna argue this with you, kid,” Hopper says. “Someone has to stay here in case she comes back and it’s going to be you.”

Steve leans forwards, starts formulating an argument but he never sees it through because there’s a sudden loud rapping at the door. _Billy,_ he thinks. Hopper swears under his breath and stands up to answer it. “Oh,” he says and his bulk obscures the figure outside. “Well hey, kid.”

He steps aside slightly.

Eleven’s standing there, her clothes dirty and slightly torn, her hair messy. “This is my sister,” she says, dragging the girl she’s holding the hand of forwards. “Her name is Eight.”

\---

Their last night in Chicago, Steve lies on the bed with Nancy and Jonathan, listening to them breathe. Jonathan’s in the middle this time, sleeping on his back with an arm around each of them, Nancy and Steve with their heads pillowed on his chest. Nancy’s asleep too, mouth hanging slightly open.

Tomorrow, they’ll be driving back to Hawkins in Jonathan’s car. It’ll be quiet, Steve thinks. Or maybe it’ll just be him that’s quiet. Back in Hawkins, things’ll probably go back to normal. Nancy and Jonathan will drift away together, Steve will be left alone again.

He doesn’t think he ever really allowed himself to feel it before but he doesn’t want to feel it again.

It’s not like there’s any other way this could end, though. What are they supposed to do, hold hands together in the lunch room at school? Pile in to Nancy’s bedroom all together and hope her mother doesn’t find it weird that she’s suddenly hanging out with her ex and her new boyfriend at the same time. Jonathan has enough problems at school without people deciding he’s a queer as well.

Then again, Jonathan probably wouldn’t care what they thought. Steve shouldn’t either. They’ve all thrown him over for Billy, anyway. He doesn’t owe them shit. His dad, though. That’s a whole other can of worms.

No. It’s probably better that ends this way, that Steve gets to keep it as this warm little blip in his life to hold him together until he can figure out what the fuck he’s doing with his life. And if not, if the warmth just makes the rest of him crack all that much faster, if it makes him less able to hold himself together then so be it. What’s that shit people always say? It’s better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all.

He closes his eyes.

Maybe he can tell himself this is all bullshit. Bull- _shit._

Not that it worked last time.

In the darkness, Nancy gently touches his hand. “You okay?” she mumbles sleepily. “You were breathing all funny.”

Steve opens his eyes. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she says, voice soft, eyes drowsy and slightly unfocussed. “Your thinking woke me up.”

Steve smiles weakly. “That’s not a thing, Nance.”

“Oh yeah? How d’you know I’m not one of Hawkins labs experiments?” she teases. “Maybe I have been all along. Maybe I’m a double-agent.”

“If you are you’re a shitty one. I don’t think you’re supposed to just announce that to people.”

Nancy smiles. “Maybe I’m trying to recruit you. Maybe that’s what this whole thing has been about.”

She’s joking. Steve knows she’s joking but something about that little statement still makes his chest clench. _Bullshit. It’s bullshit._ Nancy must see something because her eyes widen and she reaches across Jonathan to grasp at Steve’s hand. “No, Steve, I was kidding, I was kidding,” she says.

Steve nods. “I know,” he grits out but he can’t stop thinking about it now, about going back to Hawkins, back to his sad little life where he drives the kids around and drifts through the corridors at school like a ghost and –

“ _Steve_ ,” she says, urgently. “I love you.”

Steve’s brain grinds to a halt. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me,” he says.

“No,” Nancy agrees. “I haven’t.”

Steve wonders what their lives would have been like if she’d said it to him earlier. If she’d said to him any of them times he’d said it to her before all this, whispered into her neck in the back seats of his car, mumbled sleepily into her shoulder in his bed. Between them, Jonathan shifts and mumbles something in his sleep.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she says. “I shouldn’t have put you through that but it was the right thing for me.”

“I know,” Steve says and she squeezes his hand. “Everything will be different when we go back, though.”

Nancy frowns. “Why?”

“What do you mean why, Nance? Because people don’t do this. People don’t shack up with their ex and her new boyfriend.”

A flicker of annoyance passes across her face. “ _Fuck_ people, Steve,” she says. “Who cares what they think?”

Steve looks away. “Me,” he says, quietly and Nancy sighs. “I’m not like you, I’m not like Jonathan.”

Nancy starts rubbing soothing circles into the back of Steve’s hand with her thumb. “What do you mean you’re not like us?”

“I’m not – I can’t – I’m not _brave_ , Nance. I’m not strong,” Steve says and just like that the floodgates are opening, words pouring out of him. “I can’t sleep properly anymore and nothing feels right, you know? I just – I keep thinking about it on a loop and I take my bat with me everywhere and I’m – I’m so damn scared of _everything_ , Nance, I can’t breathe – ”

Nancy draws his hand closer to her, presses a kiss to it that stills Steve’s speech. Her eyes are wide and damp. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry, Steve. We should have been there for you. _I_ should have been there for you.”

And then she’s crying and he’s crying and they’re pressing closer together and shaking and Jonathan’s waking up and saying, “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” And holding both of them still, both of them steady, rubbing circles into their backs and making soft, soothing sounds.

Steve ends up with his face pressed into Jonathan’s shoulder, breath hitching. “Don’t leave,” he mumbles. “Please don’t. I can’t do it again.”

Jonathan and Nancy are both pressed close to him, both holding him.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Jonathan promises, one hand winding through Steve’s hair. “Right, Nance?”

Nancy is rubbing Steve’s back. She bends to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “Right.”


End file.
